


drinking you down, like i want to drown

by scarlettroses



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Demonic Possession, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Psychological Horror, only sort of it’s not THAT scary, uhh jack is very manipulative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettroses/pseuds/scarlettroses
Summary: "All I'm saying is that you can't prove ghosts and demons and shit aren't real. Lots of people say they've seen them— for all I know, you could be a demon!"Something unreadable flashes across Jack's face for a moment, but he recovers quickly and laughs it off."Yeah, sure," he replies sarcastically. "Just for that, we're watching The Conjuring. There's nothing to be scared of because it's not real, okay?"
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	drinking you down, like i want to drown

**Author's Note:**

> so i felt like writing something spooky, and this is what happened?
> 
> (from a request on my tumblr)

Davey Jacobs isn’t sure what to make of the new guy at work.

He seems awfully young for the accomplished photographer that he claims to be— though his work _is_ indisputably incredible, so maybe has some kind of divine gift when it comes to cameras.

There’s also something a little weird about the way he talks, sometimes using strange and outdated slang, though maybe that’s just got something to do with his odd kind of hipster aesthetic. Full commitment to whatever it is he’s going for, Davey supposes.

Anyways. Jack is a little weird, but so is everyone in New York City these days, so maybe Davey’s just overthinking it.

“Wanna come out for a coffee run at lunch?” Jack asks, leaning over the little partition between their desks and interrupting Davey’s thoughts. He’s been editing photos all morning and Davey has been busy trying to put words to paper for a rough draft of an article that’s due tonight. “That break room coffee is basically water and you look like you could use a caffeine kick— you’re practically falling asleep on your keyboard.”

They don’t know each other all that well yet, so Davey would typically be a little caught off-guard by this weirdly friendly interaction, but there’s just something so inherently charming about Jack that he has to shrug and smile.

“Sure, it could be nice to get some fresh air,” he replies, and it doesn’t really strike him until later that night that he doesn’t usually drink coffee, let alone leave the office to get it from the fancy cafe down the block.

For some reason, it just felt natural to go along with Jack.

-

“Good morning, Davey boy! How are we doing today?”

Jack sets a to-go cup of coffee on Davey’s desk and then sits down at his own, shrugging his jacket off to hang on his chair.

Davey doesn’t like coffee. He picks up the cup and takes a sip anyways. He’s not sure why he feels compelled to, but he realizes he doesn’t really mind the taste.

“I’m alright, nothing really new. How are you?”

Their friendship has developed almost unnaturally quickly. They’ve gone from strangers to best pals in a matter of days— Jack has a way of making people comfortable around him, he’s quickly become one of the office favourites. It makes Davey feel a little special that Jack has taken such a liking to him.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” replies Jack, as he starts up his computer. “God knows how I always end up running late, but at least I’m here! I took some really great pictures last night, but I have _so_ much to edit now.”

The computer makes a rumbling noise like it’s trying to turn on, but the equipment in this office is starting to get a little rundown and outdated, and it immediately seems to shut itself back off.

“Come on,” grumbles Jack, jabbing at the power button. Nothing happens. “Seriously? When I’m already late?” He leans in close so that his face is nearly touching the screen and says in a dramatically deep voice: “Turn _on_ , you piece of shit.”

It makes both him and Davey burst into laughter, but remarkably, the screen lights up moments later. What the hell?

“Yo, I was _not_ expecting that to work,” laughs Jack, leaning back in his chair. Davey looks over and he swears Jack’s eyes have gone pitch black, but then he blinks and it goes away. Probably a trick of the lighting. “Weird.”

-

A boring evening at home alone finds Davey googling Jack’s name.

He’s just curious, really— he wants to see if there’s some kind of online portfolio or blog where he can check out more of Jack’s work. It’s somewhat astonishing how successful he is for being so young, or rather _looking_ so young, since Davey has never actually asked how old he is. Maybe that’s something else he could find out.

Of course, Jack isn’t the only _Jack Kelly_ out there— the top result is some professor at a university in Ireland— but as Davey continues to scroll, there’s a remarkable lack of anything related to a photographer named Jack Kelly from Manhattan, New York.

He tries adding New York to the search bar, but all he manages to find is one of those websites that archives old newspapers— he comes across an obituary for a Jack Kelly that had died here in Manhattan over a century ago. He clicks on it out of morbid curiosity.

_Jack Kelly. 1882-1901. Beloved brother and friend. May God rest his soul._

That’s it. No cause of death, no mention of his family— just some poor kid who didn’t even make it to his twentieth birthday. Well. That’s really fucking sad.

The next result is from the same website, another old newspaper article, this one from 1899.

_NEWSIES STOP THE WORLD._

_With the swagger of one twice his age, armed with nothing more than a few nuggets of truth, seventeen year-old Jack Kelly stands ready to face the behemoth Pulitzer._

This is likely the same Jack that died only a couple of years later, which is really quite tragic. Davey scrolls a little further down the page, and then stops short. There’s a picture— a bunch of kids grinning and posing triumphantly around a stack of newspapers— and in the middle of it… _Jack_. That looks exactly like the Jack that Davey works with.

Holy shit. He tries to rationalize it— this must be, like, Jack’s great-great-grandpa or something. That’s crazy.

He glances to the clock and realizes how late it’s getting. He closes the tab and thinks nothing more of it, shutting off his laptop and getting ready for bed.

-

“Davey, come on… _obviously_ ghosts and demons aren’t real. What, do you believe in witches and fairies and fuckin’ Bigfoot too?”

They’re hanging out at Davey’s apartment after work and debating what movie to watch.

“Maybe I do,” replies Davey indignantly, as he makes his way to the couch with a bowl of popcorn to share. “I just think there’s no way of knowing all that supernatural stuff _isn’t_ real, so it freaks me out!”

“No way of knowing,” scoffs Jack. “You can’t see it. There’s no evidence. Isn’t that enough proof? I thought you loved science!” He shakes his head when Davey offers him the popcorn bowl. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. Not really a popcorn fan, I don’t like salty food.”

Davey shrugs as he sits down and places the bowl on his own lap.

“Alright, suit yourself. More for me I guess.” He settles into the couch and tucks his feet up under a blanket. “All I’m saying is that you can’t prove ghosts and demons and shit aren’t real. Lots of people say they’ve seen them— for all I know, _you_ could be a demon!”

Something unreadable flashes across Jack’s face for a moment, but he recovers quickly and laughs it off.

“Yeah, sure,” he replies sarcastically. “Just for that, we’re watching The Conjuring. There’s nothing to be scared of because it’s not _real_ , okay?”

Davey frowns skeptically, a little ball of anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach as Jack starts the movie.

“Just because _you_ don’t think it’s real…” He suddenly trails off as he forgets what he was going to say. Weird.

Jack has reached over and grabbed his shoulder, squeezing gently, reassuringly, and Davey feels oddly calm. Maybe there _isn’t_ anything to be scared of.

-

Davey has never fallen for anyone this fast.

It’s only been a handful of weeks, but he is _infatuated_ with Jack. There’s something so damn charming about him that it’s making Davey a little crazy.

Luckily, it seems to be reciprocated, as Jack seems just as eager to chat at work and hang out in the evenings. They haven’t put a label on it yet, but they’re… close. That’s how Davey describes it when his mother asks if he’s been seeing anyone— he has, and he’s getting close with this guy. They’re not dating, but they’re definitely more than friends.

Davey has decided he likes coffee now. Jack brings him some practically every other morning, so he’s officially developed a taste for it, though he still prefers the sweeter drinks with whipped cream on top. He likes Jack, and Jack likes coffee, so Davey figures he can like coffee too.

“Pizza at my place tonight?” asks Jack, leaning over the partition between their desks like he always does. “Maybe some… oh, what’s it called… Netflix and chill?”

Davey can’t help but laugh a little— Jack’s got this old-fashionedness to him sometimes; it’s like he’s trying to keep up with modern times but a lot of it is genuinely lost on him. He doesn’t even have Instagram, for Christ’s sake! But it’s truly endearing, so all Davey can do is giggle and try to educate him about the wonders of the twenty-first century, as if they’re not practically the same age.

-

Jack remembers dying.

It was terrifying. He can recall laying in a back alley, choking on his own blood. There’d been a moment where he realized there was no coming back from this one: he was really and truly screwed.

Nineteen years old— a little too old to be a newsie, too uneducated and borderline illiterate for a real job, he’d made the almost natural progression into getting involved with the wrong kinds of people in the wrong areas of town. Gangs, violence, drugs, the lot.

As it turns out, all it took was picking one bad fight with a few fellas who didn’t really like him to be dragged out back and _dealt with_. A knife to his throat, a clean slice, and they left him there. He was dying.

Until he wasn’t.

It had been the strangest experience, and it’s still sort of hazy— there’d been a shadowy hand extended in front of his face, and voice like nails on a chalkboard saying something about some kind of deal in exchange for eternal life, and Jack really and truly had nothing to lose and was probably hallucinating anyways, so he’d summoned what was left of his strength and shook the hand.

And then he was awake.

-

“Jacky? Hey, are you okay?”

Jack is quiet for a long second; he seems out of it, like he’s caught up in his own head.

“Yeah,” he finally says, blinking a few times as if he’s trying to snap himself out of whatever state he was in. “I’m fine. Just, like, haven’t been sleeping well lately. It’s throwing me off.”

In all honestly, Davey is quite sure there’s more to it than that, but he’s not going to press. It doesn’t feel appropriate— they’re still in a new relationship, they haven’t really reached the point of super deep talks yet. Jack’s allowed to have his secrets.

“I mean… you could stay here tonight if you want. Not that I’m a sleep expert or anything, but maybe changing the scenery could help a little. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Jack finally smiles at that.

“Thanks, Davey. That would be really nice.” He pushes himself off of the couch and stretches a little, making his way to the kitchen. “Care for a late-night snack? I’ll make us something. I saw some recipe for cookie dough that doesn’t have eggs or nothin’ in it so you can just eat it and not…”

He trails off into a frown and stops short, which makes Davey match his confused expression.

“Are you alright?”

“My head just hurts,” mumbles Jack, reaching up to rub at his temple. “I’m… I’m kinda dizzy. It’s nothing.”

“You should sit down, babe,” says Davey, instinctively patting the open spot on the sofa where Jack had previously been. “You must be coming down with something, you’re awfully pale.”

Jack takes just one step towards Davey before he suddenly collapses on the floor.

Davey is up off the couch in an instant, rushing over to see what on earth happened.

“Jack?” He kneels next to Jack and gently pats his cheek, trying to wake him. “Jacky, come on. Come back to me. You’re okay.”

Jack’s eyes finally snap open, and Davey practically falls backwards. They’re pure, inky black, just like he thought he saw that day in the office. He turns to look at Davey and a voice that doesn’t belong to Jack starts to come out of his mouth.

“ _He died so young. So tragic. It wasn’t fair_.”

Davey is practically shitting himself. He has no idea what’s going on and he scrambles backwards until his back hits the couch. Jack, or whatever is possessing him, sits up.

“ _He didn’t deserve it_ ,” the demonic voice continues. “ _He was just a kid. I found him choking on his own blood— they cut his throat_.”

“Who are you?” Davey finally manages to ask, his voice trembling. “What did you do to Jack?”

“ _I saved him. I_ —”

Suddenly, Jack blinks and his eyes are their usual dark hazel again. He looks terrified, but Davey’s fight-flight-freeze is still engaged, and he’s apparently decided to freeze. He watches helplessly as Jack tries to collect himself.

“Davey…” He whispers, like he doesn’t know what else to say. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“What _was_ that?” asks Davey, still unable to move from his cowered position.

Jack hesitates, opens his mouth to explain, and then closes it again. He’s clearly at a loss for words.

“I love you,” is the first thing he says, and it’s almost apologetic. “I… I really love you. I need you to know that.”

All Davey can do is nod. He doesn’t have a response. He needs an explanation, something.

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Jack sighs. “When I started feeling sick, I shoulda known it was gonna try to talk to you. It wanted to scare you. I’m sorry.”

That doesn’t really explain anything.

“What is _it_?” demands Davey. “What _are_ you?”

“I’m me,” replies Jack quickly, like he’s trying to be reassuring. He rubs at his throat and the jagged, line-shaped birthmark running across it suddenly becomes a lot more obvious. “I… I don’t really know how to explain it. I’m just Jack. But, well, I’m sorta… dead. That voice you just heard— I guess it’s a demon, basically— it needed a human body, and I didn’t wanna die, so we made a deal. It keeps me alive, I host it like a parasite, pretty much. It doesn’t usually do… what it just did. I think that was its idea of a joke. It likes scaring people.”

Davey can’t process this. Had Jack not just assured him a while ago that demons and ghosts most definitely aren’t real? What the fuck?

“So you’re on demonic life support and it just hangs out and keeps you alive. And it possesses you… as a _joke_.” states Davey in disbelief. “How long have you been fucking _dead_ for? Have I been dating a walking corpse?”

Jack counts on his fingers and his eyebrows scrunch together— he still somehow manages to be endearing.

“Almost a hundred and twenty years. Jesus, has it really been that long?”

The article and the obituary. That’s why Jack looked exactly like the kid in the newspaper— that was him. This is insane. This can’t be real, there’s no way this is happening.

“Davey, please,” whispers Jack, sliding himself closer to Davey, but not touching him yet, giving him some space. “You’re gonna hyperventilate, you have to calm down.”

“Calm down!? Jack, you’re _dead_. You’re older than my great-grandpa! You’re possessed by a fucking demon! I don’t know how you expect me to—”

He trails off when Jack reaches up to carefully cup both of Davey’s cheeks in his hands. He suddenly feels a little calmer. Jack takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh, before staring straight into Davey’s eyes.

“You don’t remember any of this.”

Davey blinks. He’d been about to ask Jack about something, but he just can’t think of what. He feels weird, like something’s not right— why are they sitting on the floor?

“You’re not worried about me,” Jack continues, not breaking eye contact. “You’re not scared of me. Everything is okay.”

Davey feels a little out of it and barely processes Jack helping him up onto the couch. He feels calm, though, like he’s just woken up from a really good nap.

Jack kisses him gently and then stands up and smiles at him.

“Anyways, I found this recipe where you make cookie dough with no eggs so it’s safe to eat— wanna try some?”

Davey has the weirdest feeling of déjà vu, like they’ve had this conversation before, but he shrugs and smiles anyways.

“Sure! I’ll see if I can find something good on Netflix.”

Jack heads off to the kitchen, and everything is fine. Nothing is weird. It’s just a normal evening.

**Author's Note:**

> spoooooky right?? 
> 
> kudos and comments make my day so feel free to let me know what you thought!!


End file.
